


Altschmerz (WayV)

by weishenbwi



Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Angst, Antisocial Personality Disorder, Bad Boy Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Forced, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kunhei, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Health Issues, Mental Illness, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oneshot, Other, Panic Attacks, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Qian Kun-centric, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sleep Paralysis, Sociopath, Top Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas-centric, Yukun, cpop - Freeform, kpop, kuncas, lukun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-02 13:19:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19199647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weishenbwi/pseuds/weishenbwi
Summary: “Kun, you smell so good. Like sweat and panic.”Lucas is a psychopath. Kun is... suffering. Experimenting on weaker patients is a form of entertainment.





	Altschmerz (WayV)

**Author's Note:**

> Altschmerz  
> n. weariness with the same old issues that you’ve always had—the same boring flaws and anxieties you’ve been gnawing on for years, which leaves them soggy and tasteless and inert, with nothing interesting left to think about, nothing left to do but spit them out and wander off to the backyard, ready to dig up some fresher pain you might have buried long ago.
> 
> This has some non-consent (not actual rape, but alludes to the subject matter) material in here. I wrote this back in 2017 for different characters but decided to update it with WayV. If this isn't a flop, I'll add more triggering kuntent.

Kun woke several times in the night cold, lonely, and covered in sweat. Something he should be accustomed to yet remained endlessly unpleasant despite the many times he repeated the same scenario. He dreamt he was in his house again, resting peacefully on a soft mattress and blanket he's had since his innocent years; when youth was all he knew and nightmares were soothed by wise hands.

A somatic presence bore on him, repressing his body. It fills his nose, his mouth, felt it overflowing into his ears and eyes. Unable to lift his head. Unable to lift his arms. His legs equally held down. Sleep paralysis. An uninvited playmate in the night; the kind of playmate that involves fragments of barely conscious rapid eye movement blended with broken whimpers, disquieting images, and a heart beating too hard, beating too fast, thumping and racing. His subconscious wants to call out, needs someone to save him from the anguish, but the miasma only sinks deeper into Kun's chest, spreading throughout his anatomy, cradling him in darkness.

And then everything's gone. What remains is but a residue of pressure and shadows. The nervousness and stress drifting into hibernation as Kun's tired body slips deeper into unconsciousness.

Lucas out of bed after hours hears Kun’s frightful panicking. Smiling at the vulnerability of his only "friend" in this god forsaken place, Lucas is glad tonight's entertainment is someone he's more familiar with. Something about the intimacy in Kun's panicked cries. To his luck, the entertainment’s room is unlocked. Most are on this ward. It’s the saner side of insanity so there aren’t as many precautions, rules, securities. He turns the knob and walks in. It’s too easy. This place is a joke, he thinks, as he pulls out a desk chair and watches his friend's anguished but quiet sobbing.

With amusement and without permission, one patient watches the other. He can tell he's trying to call out, but the words are caught in his throat, and he's only able to groan in agony. A smile forms on Lucas’ face as he watches Kun writhe among the obscurity, weakly whimpering from whichever ghost is tormenting him this night. It’s an interesting show for Lucas who decides to get up and stand closer, watching under the luminescence of the moon.

The lightning unveils the elder's face so intensely, betraying everything the shadows covered, that Lucas can see tears collapsing. Falling from tortured memories as rain falls from the sky. Kun’s agony paints his face and Lucas thinks it’s a beautiful sight. There are so few things as honest as Kun's painfully exposed tears. “It hurts.” Lucas imagines Kun would say if he were awake. He imagines Kun has said this many times, both to himself and to whoever will listen.

He would feel pity for him if he felt anything at all. Kindness is a lie and most people, deep down, want authenticity; the truth that comes with people like Lucas. His truth, Kun's truth, is a singular vulgar poem no one could bring themselves to recite. But the broken want to hear it. They need to hear it, to give them hope that “it could always be worse.”

Lucas is a sociopath and he’s not sure why he’s even allowed on this ward. Doctor Winwin, as he jokingly calls him without feeling any playfulness at all, says he’s progressing in treatment and it shouldn’t be long before Lucas is rehabilitated for the “real world” as they call it. Like it’s anymore real out there than it is in here. If anything the rawness is more visceral here, everyone more painfully themselves. In here, it's like everyone's nerves are on the outside of their body and everyone else can see it. No one smiles if they don't want to. Laughs if they'd rather cry. None of the patients expect anything from each other here.

Another benefit, Lucas thinks, is how he can watch this boy suffer in his sleep and no one knows he's doing it. In here, I can pull this chair up to his bed and have front row seats to Boy-Has-Daddy-or-Mommy-Issues, he chuckles to himself. In here, I can lean forward and lick the tears forming at the corners of his eyes. Salty. In here, I can place my hand over his mouth and hold… hold… hold… and stop. In here, I have power to give him life as he inhales deeply unaware that I could have just as easily taken it. In here, I can crawl into his bed slowly and gently lay next to him...” But his thoughts are interrupted by Kun's awareness that he wasn’t alone.

“Wha-“ A swift and firm hand cover the elder's mouth playing in harmony with the downpour outside. 

Lucas' steady body presses closer into Kun's own trembling one. “Shh…Kun. You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s Xuxi.”

“Lu-Xuxi? What are you doing here?” Kun whispers as his laborious breathing begins to quieten.

“Tis I. Your friendly residential psychopath.” The younger makes a show of display with his hands and legs like some first-time magician. “I was out of bed when I heard you were having a panic attack. So I came to see it.” Very matter-of-factly. Such a mischievous grin. So handsome. It's one of the factors that have helped Lucas get out of troubles others less so wouldn't be able to. Lucas is handsome and tall. Picturesque. But he's also fresh-faced and wide-eyed. Unassuming. It catches people off guard because they expect one thing and he gives them another and then another. Multi-faceted charisma. One or two flashes of that brilliant, wide smile and those bright, beaming eyes have (in many cases) caused people to let things slide when they shouldn't have. Lucas is aware of this and uses it to his advantage because "Why not?" It's useful.

“Ah, you came to see me suffer? Thanks.” Kun chuckles because only Lucas would do this and somehow, despite the lunacy, it's comforting. "So tell me how you managed-"

“I crawled in, of course. How else do you think I did it?” the younger snickers. "I opened the door because it wasn't locked. They should really do something about security around here, don't you think?" Lucas leans into Kun, chin resting on the elder's shoulder. Soft. Gentle. Lucas doesn't feel anything when he does it. No intimacy. No bonding moment. However, Kun does. Lucas knows his presence here in this room, despite the circumstances surrounding it, have comforted Kun - and so he goes with societal norms and plays his part well.

"They should." Kun chuckles dryly, leaning his head back onto Lucas tired from this nightly ordeal and his perpetual hell. "But if you don't mind, I should get some sleep. Doctor Sicheng wants me to go over some childhood trauma tomorrow and I'm going to need some shuteye to not scream out against suppressed memories." Kun sighs as Lucas rubs his arm softly as a parent would as they read bedtime stories to their little ones, as Kun's grandparents used to do for him.

"I don't mind." tilting his head to the side and smiling, Lucas looks passively at Kun, before snuggling into his shoulder once more. He wants to play. It's always the same whether he's the patient Lucas wants to bother or some other poor soul.

“No, you don’t. Good thing this isn't your room." Kun's brows furrow coupled with a slight smirk. He wouldn't mind a playful Lucas if he weren't so tired and if he didn't have a session with Sicheng in the morning. But as it stands, he really needs to get some sleep. To be honest, if it weren't for the rules, he might ask Lucas to stay. He always did sleep better with someone or something next to him.

“No, I don’t mind and this isn’t your room either. It’s the hospitals. Since I'm a patient here it’s just as much my room as it is yours... Kun-ge."

That name "Kun-ge". Lucas only uses it when his playful mood is at its peak, which is apparently right now, which is also the most inopportune and unfortunate time for Kun. He usually enjoys these concoctions Lucas brings him at all ungodly hours of the night. Tonight is different. He knows the theme of tomorrow's session and if he could avoid it entirely, he would. But unlike the younger, Kun doesn't want to stay here forever and if he doesn't get enough rest then he'll have an attack. And no one wants to or will release someone into the free world with that kind of emotional response to something as simple as memories.

“No, it isn’t. Get off my bed Yukhei. Please.”

“Oh, well since you said it like that.” Lucas moves on top of him, long limbs stretching over Kun's smaller frame, arms resting over Kun's chest. “I’m mostly off your bed now.” A self-satisfied smirk. “Hey, did you know the medicine they have you on for panic attacks actually increases your risk for having one? It's always like that isn't it? Take medication for depression? It increases your risk for depression. Take it for bi-polar disorder or bpd? Well you might have mania.” Laughing outwardly, the younger bends forward, lips and nose touching the sweat of Kun's nape whose breathing hitched from trying to process everything that's happened in the past few minutes. He could feel Lucas lips open and his tongue slide up against the nape of his neck before breathing deeply and sucking against the goosebumps now forming along his skin. “Kun, you taste so good. Like sweat and panic.”

Kun's eyes open wide before trying to shove Lucas off of him but Lucas is bigger than Kun and his efforts are futile. He tries to kick at him, push him off, twist and turn underneath the younger but nothing works. Lucas is simply stronger than Kun. But Kun, even in his state of panic, is smart and can think on his feet. Or, in this case, on his back. He shoves Lucas one more time before opening his mouth to call out for help and barely manages to get the shortest "He-" when the younger covers his mouth swiftly, firmly, scent of handsoap and sweat permeating his senses. The weight of Lucas' body presses down onto Kun as his mouth speaks tenderly onto the flesh of the elder's cheek. “Shh... shh... I haven’t given you anything to scream about."

“And I won’t"

_***kiss*** _

"If you let me"

_***kiss*** _

"Do what I want.”

His kisses are delicate, mixed with the institution's mint toothpaste and a cold awareness of where they are: Seoul's fourth best choice for inpatient mental health. Curiously there are only five institutions of this type in the whole city. This one is currently hiring everyone from janitors and cooks to nurses and doctors. It's always understaffed. It's why patients who seem more capable help out where they can. Cheap or free labor; a bit like private prison. And so it's more of a playground than anything else for people like Lucas. But Kun's new here or maybe he's never been in an institution before but he's never said anything about the small staff and it's a wonder if he's even noticed at all. It's certainly not information the younger would volunteer to the older. As many times as he's played with new patients, it's always better when they think help will arrive if they call for it. And it's even better when no help ever comes.

Lucas smiles at the thought as his chapped lips press down onto Kun's as he breathes him in. "Fuck gege, you smell just like you taste. Like fear and sweat." With that a long lick up the side of Kun's face, from chin to temple. Lucas' tongue is dry and rough, probably from the meds, and Kun can't take it anymore. He twists and pulls, attempting to free himself or scream – whichever comes first. He can feel his heart rate increasing, worrying that Lucas wasn't playing a sick joke about an induced panic attack. If he has a panic attack, Lucas will leave him here and someone will overhear him screaming and flailing against his sweat-drenched sheets, maybe an orderly or nurse. It will look like a random, unprovoked attack. It'll seem as if he's not ready to go back into society. If that happens, he's going to be in here a lot longer than he hoped and what's more he'll be stuck with Lucas to play with him however he wants even longer. No. No, this can't happen! And so Kun twists and writhes under Lucas, the friction of their bodies causing Kun to sweat even more as his attempts become weaker.

Lucas keeps his eyes on Kun, watches him struggling, sweating, panicking. It's a sight to behold. "Hyung, you're so beautiful when you struggle." With an array of kisses, Lucas whispers on Kun's lips "Come on. Keep trying. Get that heart pumping, push against me.”

The younger thrusts against the elder's hips slowly, arms firmly gripped above his head with both hands. A repeated motion. He'll take his time with Kun. No one's going to check on them until the sun is almost up... if at all. That's just the way it works in this place. They've never caught him before. Besides, it doesn't matter to Lucas anyway. Even if they did catch them what would it matter? He's already in here. And so he thrusts again; this time more roughly, large hands gripping Kun's smaller wrists tighter. He hopes it'll leave bruises. He squeezes harder for good measure before bending down and biting gently on Kun's bottom lip. "Ge-ge, can't you feel it? You're starting to get hard." Lucas buries his face into Kun's neck as he rubs up and down against Kun's growing erection. "You like this, don't you? You don't want to tell me, right? You think I'll look at you differently because you like it when I abuse you. I won't, okay?" Another thrust. "I like you like this. I like when you're vulnerable. Hyung, you're so pretty when you cry." Kuns' tears are a mixture of salt and medication. Lucas thinks it's curious how medications always make things taste different, usually gross. Whether it's urine, sweat, cum... there's always a medication taste and smell. Kun is no exception to the effects of medication or to the effects of biology as he grows harder in Lucas' hand. "It's okay to admit that you like it. Scout's honor I won't tell a soul."

Freeing one hand to flit and flicker across Kun's arms up to his forehead  
***kiss***  
cheek  
***kiss***  
neck  
***kiss***  
composing a sadistic melody with tongue-play against shielded skin, creating goosebumps out of fear and desperation, Lucas hums to himself, smiling without feeling anything.

Playing Kun's body like a piano, reaching an intermission only to bite and grind against his senior, and matching the octave of the other with his own against the dancing lights in the sky. "Kiss me then I'll release you." Fingers now circling just above the tip of Kun's elastic waistline. It's not for pleasure. None of this is stimulating for Lucas. He doesn't care about Kun or anyone else on this planet, cadaverous or not. The elder's panicked and fearful response acts as a crescendo to the younger in a way that feeds his own disordered existence, elevating him in some way without moving him at all.

But Kun doesn't know this and he's fearful. He knows he should listen, it would be the safer thing to do, but he doesn't - he instinctively forces himself to close down, hoping against everything that maybe Lucas will get bored and leave. But it doesn't work. Others have tried this too and it never works.

Between tight lips and frustration, Lucas grabs Kun's erection squeezing hard to let the older know a line has been crossed before tilting his head and patting lightly against the thin fabric and Kun's precum. “You're terrible and you’re going to play because you promised me. And we're friends and you promised me.” Lucas smiles with amusement at the game and the fear before another change of expression; this time more stoic like all charade of emotion has passed.

“Ah Kun, it's so cute how you think this is a game I could lose and you could win. Is it a game? What do you think Kun-ge?" Lucas inches closer to Kun's face and the older can feel the hot breath of the younger before the he bites down on the older's neck, large hands covering Kun's mouth to ensure minimal sounds escape. Fingers twist on his arms, his waist, everywhere. Lucas sucks and bites anywhere and everywhere he can. He wonders if it will look like self-harm. "I want to leave my own marks on you so every time you see it, you'll remember this night. Do you think you'll remember Kun-ge? Please tell me you'll remember. Lucas stops twisting to hold Kun's head in his hands. "You'll remember this night?" Shake your head if you'll remember.

Kun obeys, tears falling onto Lucas' hands, as he does what he's told. It's at this moment that he feels a dichotomy in his thinking. He wants Lucas to leave so he can have some false sense of comfort and rest. But at the same time, there's something about Lucas' being here, his control over Kun, the weight of Lucas's body on his own, the way his own body has betrayed him over the urge to feel Lucas inside him that gives some stability to the chaos that's always erupting in his mind.

Whispering against their pressed lips, Lucas calls Kun's attention back to him, "Hyung, I think I drew blood."

'Hyung", what he called Kun when they first met because he thought Kun was Korean. Or maybe it's because they both managed to get stuck here in an institute in Seoul, the only two Chinese patients in the whole building; a fact that initiated their bonding in the beginning. "No, don't cry. It's not permanent... not physically. It's only a little reminder of our friendship, hyung. Don't you want to remember our friendship?" Kun feels his chest tighten as Lucas wraps his arms around and squeeze, squeeze, squeezes; the younger's face once more nuzzling into his neck. He doesn't want to like it but it's comforting. When was the last time someone hugged him?

"Did you hear me?" Lucas takes something out of his pants. Something shiny. And sharp. "I swiped it while doing janitorial work. If you’re good, they let you have privileges. Well, they do it to hire less people, but if you’re smart you can use it to your advantage. I'm not hard but we could still have some fun. I won’t get any pleasure out of it except to see the terror and panicked look in your eyes, the one you have now, the one you had earlier. That’s pleasure enough." More hugs. More nuzzling. He must be covered in spit as many times as the younger has licked, bit, and sucked the various parts of his exposed flesh. "How would you feel to have this knife rip you in pieces from bottom to top?" A motion that seems cliche in movies until you're experiencing it in person, Kun thinks. "Would you like that? Huh Qian?" A soft hand placed firmly on the elder's chin. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

Kun pauses for too long. He feels his heart rate increase, a darkness ascending, deafness save for a ringing unplaced. “Earth to Kun.” A saccharine song and a cruel slap to his delicate face, Lucas takes the knife and starts cutting through Kun's pants. “You know I heard a story that if you count from 1 to 10 with the word Mississippi, it means that a storm is coming closer. Or something like that. I like it. Let's play a game, hyung. I count from 1-10 and if you don't give me what I want, I'll take it. Now don't scream. We wouldn't want you covered in your own blood, would we?" Lucas makes a tiny cut across Kun's arm, droplets of blood crying like the pattering weather against the window. "Nooo.. Gege, I'm so sad. Why are you hurting yourself? Please don't hurt yourself." Another small cute, more droplets of blood as the younger looks at him with saddened eyes, pleading with him to stop something he's not doing.

"No... please... Xuxi. Don't do this." Tears now fall steadily out of Kun's eyes mixing with a rising hysteria and perspiration soaking his cheap hospital garments, finding it more difficult to steady his breathing as the seconds pass.

"Don't do what hyung? This?" A forward thrust against Kun's erection followed by a playful, unfeeling, laugh from the younger. Kun feels his body betray him again. "1 Mississippi. 2 Mississippi. You have until the count of 10. 3 Mississippi.”

“I wouldn’t... I don’t want... please... don't. Stop."

“Don't stop? Okay then. 4, 5, 6 Mississippi.” Lucas thrusts aggressively to the sound of his counting, his own erection barely growing due to the side effects of one of the many medications he's on.

Lightning strikes outside illuminating their contrasting frames against the wall of Kun's cramped room, shadows separate absent of the thought and misfortune occurring in the room. The sweat, tears, spit, blood, cum, scars. The trauma Kun won't be telling Dr. Sicheng about in a few hours.

"Sometimes you need to be used. Do you understand, Kun? 7, 8 Mississippi." Lucas keeps thrusting forward and Kun wishes upon all the world that he'd stop or that he'd wake up and this will have been nothing but a nightmare. He's used to those. But this is real, too real, and he can't find it in him to hold on anymore.

 "9 Mississippi."

Kun whimpers as the last of his agitated breathing slows before darkness envelops him, any sense of time forgotten, physically present but mind absent as Lucas finishes counting.

"10 Mississippi."

 

**Author's Note:**

> All feedback helps improve future fics~ let me know what you think!


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